


broken mirror

by astroblemish



Series: reflections [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Obsession, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Much More Plot Than Intended, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 13:54:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22457263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astroblemish/pseuds/astroblemish
Summary: Jongdae hates working with his clone almost as much as he hates his clone. Unfortunately, getting stuck in the past with him doesn’t give Jongdae much of a choice.
Relationships: Byun Baekhyun/Kim Jongdae | Chen, Kim Jongdae | Chen/Byun Baekhyun/Kim Jongdae | Chen, Kim Jongdae | Chen/Kim Jongdae | Chen
Series: reflections [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806532
Comments: 16
Kudos: 165





	broken mirror

**Author's Note:**

> i am deathly afraid of sequels but the sheer horny power of this idea gifted unto me last night was too good to resist. thank u, cat, for enabling me. and thank u past baekhyun for being a twink worthy of obliteration.
> 
> this should kinda stand alone i guess but is probably more enjoyable if youve read the first. basically the only thing you need to know is that jongdaë and baekhyun have fucked before, lmao.

* * *

While Jongdae wouldn’t consider himself an angry person, there are certainly periods in his life where he’s felt angry.

Like right now, for example, having that stupid fucking mirror image smirk up at him like he’s won even when Jongdae has the advantage, pinned underneath him with his gun spinning across the floor. Jongdae can feel his clone’s power rumbling in his chest, thunder only slightly subdued, but it’s kept at bay. Jongdae doesn’t know why and he doesn’t want to. Answers with _him_ never come out satisfying.

“What now hero?” Jongdaë goads, mismatched eyes alight with mirth. “Going to have your way with me now that you’ve won? Claim your prize?”

Jongdae physically recoils, pulling back. “You’re disgusting.” He tightens his grip on Jongdaë’s hands though, just in case. 

Jongdaë groans in exasperation. “Why are you so dreadfully boring?” he complains. “Why couldn’t I get someone more fun?” Jongdae squints down at him with disgust, contempt, and wariness. “Haven’t you ever wondered what it’s like to fuck yourself? Not even once?”

“You…” Jongdae pales. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What the fuck is wrong with _you_?” Jongdaë counters. “I don’t understand you. Baëkhyun shares so much in common with the other him it’s like he can read his mind but-- you? You don’t make a single ounce of sense.” It’s the rawest Jongdae’s ever seen his counterpart, openly searching Jongdae’s face like he’s looking for answers, visibly confused and frustrated. It’s-- strange. But also empowering. “Why don’t you ever give up control?”

Jongdae is speechless for a moment, about to voice “What?” but he’s cut short. The door to Jongdaë’s surveillance room bursts open, and Chanyeol stands behind it, fires blazing from the explosion he’d caused to knock it off his hinges. Baekhyun is right behind him, making eye contact with Jongdae across the room.

“Jongdae come on!” Chanyeol calls. “We have to get out of here! They were only a distraction!”

“Ah, that’s my cue.” Jongdaë sighs wistfully. Jongdae feels the thunder rumbling before he hears it, the vibrations deep in Jongdaë’s chest sending him flying back as his shoulders collide with a wall somewhere behind him and he wheezes, the air pushed from his lungs. His vision blurs, but he can make out Jongdaë in front of him dusting off his suit and straightening out his cuffs, as if Jongdae hadn’t beaten him and knocked him to the floor minutes prior. He even uses the tips of his fingers to slick some hairs out of his face. Jongdae can hear Chanyeol fretting over him, crouched by his body, but he isn’t listening.

There’s the fizzle of static like an old TV losing signal, and then Jongīn is there, without any of the little dust clouds or ozone smell like Jongin has when he reforms. One second empty space, the next he fills it, his posture inhumane and animalistic as he tilts his head at Jongdaë in a silent question.

“Ugh they sent _you_?” Jongdaë grimaces, perhaps as uncomfortable with Jongīn as the rest of them. “Fine. Just get me out of here.” He turns around, smiling at Jongdae, but his attention quickly shifts to Baekhyun. “Lovely to see you again. Shame it wasn’t in funner circumstances.”

Hot anger wells up in Jongdae, and he sees red. Chanyeol is still rambling about getting him out of there but Jongdae doesn’t care. Lightning arcs around his arms and fingers and under his feet, giving him strength and speed, and he screams as he lunges for Jongdaë, determined to not let him escape.

Teleporting with Jongin is always simple, instantaneous. One moment you’re one place, the next you’re arriving in a puff of cloud and the scent of rain. But Jongīn’s power is disorienting. Time moves slow and fast all at once. Jongdae can feel himself grappling with his counterpart in a place that isn’t quite tangible, can hear Jongīn’s frustrated grunts as they fight around him, inside him, not near him at all. It’s weird, somewhere between existence and not, and it feels like forever until Jongdae is being spat out and lands flat on his ass staring at halogen lights.

Jongdae groans, head spinning, holding a hand against it as if that will steady his vision as he sits up, trying to get his bearings. It looks like a hallway, maybe a hospital of some kind? All fluorescent lighting and linoleum floors.

“Where am I?” Jongdae asks himself.

“Good question, idiot,” a voice snips beside him, and when Jongdae turns he sees Jongdaë looking just as disoriented and ill as Jongdae feels. He scrambles back, an awkward crawl. Jongdaë only grunts. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re the one that got us here.”

Jongdae eyes him warily, chest heaving. “Where’s Jongīn?”

“Probably still fucking travelling to wherever the fuck he wanted to go to lose you.” Jongdaë groans again, and Jongdae thinks, _isn’t that my line?_ Jongdaë stands, and he looks shaky still, a little pale. He reaches out onto the wall to steady himself, and squeezes his eyes shut. “Please don’t be where I think we are.”

“And where’s that?” Jongdae snidely asks, sick of Jongdaë and his stupid fucking games. But he doesn’t get an answer, only gets Jongdaë shushing him and quickly pulling him into a random door behind him. He thinks he sees the glimpse of a woman wearing all white wheeling a large metal cart, but it’s gone as the door slides shut in front of him, Jongdaë’s palm over his mouth.

“Be. Quiet,” Jongdaë grits out. Jongdae’s heart is hammering in his ears, and so much of him wants to struggle, wants to buck and kick and scratch against him, but he doesn’t, just forces himself to still as they hear the cart wheel past the door, watch its shadow crawl beneath them.

“Well,” a voice speaks up behind them. “If this isn’t a surprise.”

They both swivel around, and at least Jongdaë looks as shocked as Jongdae feels as they both take in Baekhyun leaning against a large bed, head cocked curiously. He looks-- young, young like he had been when he and Jongdae were both recruits, pulling each other through grueling training exercises and staying up late talking about what they’d be doing if they were home. If they’d ever had a home. 

But he’s softer than he had been even back then, with fuller cheeks and smoother skin, and sandy blonde hair rather than silver, though his eyes have a jagged edge to them that looks… wrong. They’re so cold --and their ice blue colour matches their frigidity. 

Baëkhyun. 

“Well fuck,” Jongdaë remarks, then sighs. “What year is it?”

“X-984,” Baëkhyun answers easily, gaze disinterested and lazy, as always.

“That’s impossible,” Jongdae interjects. That would put them six years in the past. 

“Who’s this one?” Baëkhyun asks Jongdaë. “An original?”

“Unfortunately,” Jongdaë answers, expression sour. 

Baëkhyun hums in assessment, eyes Jongdae with a hunger that has him stepping back, skin crawling.

“You know, they haven’t finished you yet.” He leans forward on the bed, and his eyes flash, red and dangerous. “But I see you, sometimes, when I go in for tests. Curled behind the glass.” He licks his lips. “So pretty.”

“The prime of my life, truly,” Jongdaë says dryly, snapping Baëkhyun’s attention off of Jongdae. “I take it you have Jongīn already then. Where is he? We need to get back to our own time.”

Baëkhyun leans back, then shrugs. “I dunno, probably at the party.” He picks up something on the bed beside him, waves it around. It’s a mask for masquerade, covered in jewels and feathers, poised on a stick. “We’re meant to be the big reveal.” He holds it over his eyes, then grins with all his teeth. It looks so wrong on Baekhyun’s youthful face Jongdae winces. 

“I see.” Jongdaë bites at his thumbnails, so nervous and unpoised that Jongdae feels whiplash.

“What is this?” he asks, voice suddenly back after processing the quick conversation in front of him. “Where are we? What did you do?”

“What did I do? This is _your_ fault lover boy, you just had to play jealous hero.” Jongdaë scoffs. “This is the Red Force base, and you’re looking at one of the first versions of Baëkhyun.” He pauses, then looks to Baëkhyun. “Ah, sorry. I suppose that was a spoiler.”

“Not really, I know I’m not perfect enough for them yet.” Baëkhyun’s indifferent shrug is stiffer, this time. Jongdae is still completely lost. 

“So we’re in the past?” Jongdae asks. Both copies nod. “How is that possible?” 

“Haven’t you lot worked it out yet?” Jongdaë spits. “Baëkhyun is shadow when Baekhyun is light, I’m thunder and _you’re_ lightning. What do you think that makes Jongīn and your pretty crybaby team member?”

Jongdae gasps in realisation. “Time and space.”

“Now he gets it.” Jongdaë rolls his eyes. “As reluctant as I am to give away one of _my_ side’s greatest secrets, I’m afraid it’s worth it just to stop you from asking stupid questions. Obviously Jongīn twisted us through many timelines to try and shake you, but we both got off here. Now we need to find his younger, weaker self to get us back. No thanks to you.”

“No thanks to me?” Jongdae hisses, and feels the storm inside him answer his anger, lightning arching over his skin.

“Boys, boys, please.” Baëkhyun smoothly steps between them, a hand on either chest to push them apart. “You need to relax. As far as we’re all concerned here the person you’re looking for is enjoying a big fancy party in the main hall and I think we should join him, no?” He eyes Jongdae hungrily, who steps back and pulls his arms around himself in a last attempt at defense, as if that will make Baëkhyun’s gaze any less piercing. “But you’ll need to change.”

“He’s right,” Jongdaë adds. “We need to get back to our own time as soon as possible before the timeline starts revolting and kicks us out.”

Jongdae’s head is swimming. He feels like he needs to sit down, but he can’t even trust himself to do that and remain safe in the face of his two greatest enemies. 

“Is that how it works?” he asks numbly.

Jongdaë and Baëkhyun exchange looks. Jongdae doesn’t understand how Jongdaë doesn’t even exist in this timeline yet their communication is seamless.

Baëkhyun’s smile is as cold as ice. “Of course,” he says saccharinely. Jongdae senses a lie, but he’s too disoriented to do anything about it. “Here,” Baëkhyun leads, opening his closet door. “I’m sure I’ll have something that might fit.”

  
  
  
  


Dressing in the avant garde clothes of the rich oppressors Jongdae would outright blame the downfall of society on is _humiliating_. Jongdaë’s red suit blends in effortlessly with the rest, but Jongdae feels like a clown in all this black leather. It sticks to his skin and chafes, the measurements slightly off no thanks to Baëkhyun’s broader shoulders. The chain jewellery rustles and clinks with each step. Having a mask over half of his face isn’t helping him adjust to the lie.

“This is ridiculous,” he hisses as Baëkhyun happily walks ahead of them, leading them through the crowd. 

“It’s smart,” Jongdaë corrects, looking far too comfortable. “Unless you’d rather waste time and not get home as soon as possible?”

Jongdae keeps his mouth shut, grinding his teeth to dust. 

They decide to split up briefly, but Jongdae has no luck, eyeing all the men and women in masks and trying to spot Jongīn’s mismatched green eyes or hunched posture. No such luck. The masquerade is too disorienting, some fancy party held by the Red Force to boast to their sponsors and peers about their accomplishments. Then, at midnight, according to Baëkhyun, the crowd will take off their masks, and gasp when they see the faces of the resistance’s heroes walking amongst them. Except it’s not quite the heroes at all. 

Fancy theatrics typical of villains. Jongdae scoffs.

People stop to ask Jongdae about himself, but he ignores them, heading upstairs to the rendezvous point they’d agreed on earlier. He hates working with his clone almost as much as he hates his clone, but Jongdae is stuck in the past --apparently, a fact he’s still processing-- and they have a similar goal. Fighting against him won't get Jongdae anywhere.

It reminds Jongdae of the night a few days ago where Baekhyun had argued that their clones weren’t really enemies ever since they’d defected from the Red Force and just became… nuisances. Thinking back on it, that’s something that had made Jongdae angry, too. 

He waits by the balcony on the upper floor like they’d agreed for over ten minutes, but neither Baëkhyun nor Jongdaë rendezvous as agreed. It irritates Jongdae further, knuckles white on the railing. He’s confused and alone and lost and all that does is make him fucking _frustrated_ , kicking himself for ending up here, for being foolish enough to be so reckless. 

A glimpse of red pulls Jongdae from his thoughts, and he sees Jongdaë sneaking out of the party and disappearing up another set of stairs. Anger boiling further, Jongdae follows, listening for the sounds of footsteps and giggles as he follows his counterpart.

The grand main hall of the Red Force HQ they’d been using to host the party disappears behind him, lead instead to the labyrinth of twisting hallways in the floors above. They aren’t furnished like the clinical laboratories where the clones are, instead plush and velvety, gaudy in their taste, typical of the wealthy aristocracy. 

Jongdae hears giggling, which only confuses him further, but he locates it behind a thick steel door. It slides open when he approaches --the room is dark, but it’s easy to locate the source of the sound.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Jongdaë has Baëkhyun pinned on top of the desk, leaning between his spread thighs, mouth at his neck.

“There you are,” Baëkhyun giggles, Jongdaë still nipping at his throat. “Was wondering when you’d show up.”

Jongdae feels like he could call a whole storm down right now, have lightning strike the earth so the world can shake with his fury.

“What the fuck is this?” he spits, marching forward. They still don’t separate. “Do you not even fucking care that we’re stuck in the fucking past?” He addresses Jongdaë, but the copy ignores him, intent on doing something to Baëkhyun’s skin that has him sighing in pleasure as Jongdae feels his stomach twist in disgust. “Do you not want to get back to your own Baëkhyun? Is that it? As long as there’s any version of his hole around to fuck you’re happy, huh?”

 _That_ finally has Jongdaë pulling away, slowly, at first, in a way that makes Baëkhyun whine, his expression dark. He looks at Jongdae, and the ice in his eyes sparks something in his gut, something… satisfied. It’s so good to finally rile him up, to get a reaction out of him that isn’t smug amusement or exasperation. He finally looks _angry_ , a perfect mirror image, and it tastes so fucking sweet.

“Don’t pretend like you know _anything_ about me,” Jongdaë mumbles darkly, and somehow, it’s exhilarating. Jongdae feels his lightning dance and spark under his skin, answering an unheard call. He’s anticipating a fight, and he’s thrilled at the prospect, ready to lose control. 

“We looked for Jongīn,” Baëkhyun pipes up, and Jongdae watches as his clone relaxes at the sound of his voice, the darkness washing away. Disappointing. Jongdae’s lightning is still dancing and sparking inside him, aching to come out. He needs the excuse. “We didn’t find him. There’s nothing to be done until midnight, so I thought we may as well have some fun while you’re here, don’t you think?”

Jongdae is used to the clones being perverse and twisted, yet it still surprises him every time.

“No, I think we should keep looking,” he argues. “Since I’m not a fucked-up freak.”

“Wow, excellent roast,” Baëkhyun comments drily. He tips his head, lazy. “He really doesn’t get it, does he?” It’s addressed to Jongdaë.

“No,” Jongdaë confirms. “He doesn’t.”

“Don’t get what?” Jongdae hisses, marching forward. He’s confused and hurt and alone and still so fucking _angry_ . There’s a whole storm brewing inside him and he can’t. He can’t. He’s spent his whole life being a beacon of hope to the rebellion, to his friends, to his people. His power is ruthless and unkempt and wiley and he will not lose control. He _can’t_. 

“We’re made from you,” Baëkhyun says. “We’re just parts of you that have been given extra bits to be whole. You can’t separate yourself from us. We’re a manifestation of all the things you’re too afraid to admit you think about in the darkness alone.”

Jongdae recoils, stepping back. “You’re lying.”

“He’s not,” Jongdaë adds. His eyes burn red, and it cracks his face. “And you know he isn’t. You can feel it too, can’t you? Just like he can.”

“ _No_.” Jongdae swallows, but his mouth is dry. The storm inside him pounds on his ribcage, rumbles in his head. It’s so loud inside him he can’t even think. 

“He enjoyed it, you know,” Jongdaë continues, unfazed as Jongdae’s breath rises, shorter and shorter. “Giving in. I think he always wanted to give up control, he just didn’t trust anyone else to do it. But we are just parts of you --we know what he wanted.”

“Stop it,” Jongdae snaps, but it feels like begging. He doesn’t want to let it in, but he can feel the satisfaction, the knowing, all the sensations that belong to him but don’t at the same time clashing inside him. Lightning flashes inside him, and thunder outside rumbles with it. 

“I can’t stop the way you feel, Jongdae.” Jongdaë is so close now Jongdae feels like he can’t breathe. “Only you can. Stop fighting what we both know we want Jongdae, stop wrestling for control. Just give in.”

Jongdae feels like he could burst, like a dam wall fit to burst or an air balloon too high in the sky. His ears pop, his skin stretches, and as the storm blows around inside him too loud to stop the only thing he can hear is a single uniform voice: _give in_.

So he does.

He does, and as his lips meet Jongdaë’s he isn’t thinking about how soft they feel, or how warm, all he’s thinking about is how quiet it feels, now. Jongdaë opens his mouth, and Jongdae lets him, and suddenly the office space they’re in is just dead silent. Nothing but the sound of their mouths meeting, hot and wet. 

Then Baëkhyun moans, and Jongdae remembers he’s there, blinks dazedly as he pulls back from the kiss to see Baëkhyun palming himself through the linen pants of his suit. It’s hot. His fingers are just as pretty as Baekhyun’s. 

“Look at that,” Jongdaë praises, and Jongdae shivers as he feels him press against Jongdae’s back, breath ghosting over his ear. “Doesn’t it feel better to no longer be at war with yourself? To stop fighting all that desire and curiosity and just… see what it’s like?” 

Part of Jongdae still kicks back, but he closes his eyes. “Yes,” he admits, and he knows he isn’t lying. “It does.”

“Good.” Jongdaë bites Jongdae’s ear lobe, and he gasps, the sensation shooting straight to his cock. “Do you want to know what he tastes like too?”

Jongdae pants, looks at the younger Baëkhyun touching himself, sandy hair disheveled, lips swollen, makeup smudged. He’s still palming himself, writhing on the desk.

“Yes,” Jongdae breathes out. 

“Right answer.” Jongdaë pulls back, and Jongdae almost pushes to find him, swaying on his feet a little. “Would you like that, Hyunnie?”

“I don’t care who fucking touches me,” Baëkhyun pants out. “Just-- one of you, both, _please_ . _Anyone_.” 

Jongdaë laughs. “I think he’s a little too obsessed with the fact that I already know his body, quite possibly better than he does at this time.” Jongdaë speaks darkly beside Jongdae’s ear. “Would you like me to teach you? They’re one and the same, after all. My Baekhyun and yours.”

Jongdae shivers at the words. He wants it so bad it scares him. The storm is gone now, and all that’s left are the broken pieces of wreckage that make Jongdae whole, nothing but jagged, ugly shadows. 

“Go on then,” Jongdaë urges, and Jongdae finds himself walking forward, his own feet pulling him forward. “Kiss him.” 

Jongdae obeys, and Baëkhyun’s mouth is as sweet and soft as it looks, though hard in its demanding need. Baëkhyun pushes against Jongdae desperately, his fingers looped through his jacket to pull him between his thighs, rutting against him. Jongdae is dizzy, drowning, and part of him wonders if this is what Baekhyun tastes like too. Jongdaë did say they’re one and the same, after all.

Jongdae feels a hand on his own, but it must be Jongdaë’s, leading it and placing it over Baëkhyun’s cock, who moans.

“Is this okay Hyunnie?” Jongdaë asks sweetly. 

“Yes, fuck--” He pulls back to whine, and his desperation only makes Jongdae hungrier. “More.” 

“Hmm, just as needy even back then. Can’t say I’m surprised.” Jongdaë chuckles, his hands on Jongdae’s waist electrifying, even if his power is only thunder. Jongdae is dizzy, torn between watching Baëkhyun rut against his hand and feeling Jongdaë’s warmth behind him, sandwiched between them. “Baekhyun is needy too, you know. So _obedient_ , so good.”

Something sharp spikes inside Jongdae, and his trance slips. “Shut the fuck up,” he grits out.

“Ah, so there’s still a little storm left in you even now. Good.” Jongdaë’s hands slide up Jongdae’s ribcage appreciatively, and leave goosebumps in their wake. “Will you be a good boy for us Hyunnie?”

“Yes,” Baëkhyun is quick to gasp out. “ _Yes_ , please, fuck, I’ll be so good. _So_ good.” 

“And to think the Red Force don’t think you’re perfect yet…” Jongdaë traces Baëkhyun cheek, and he leans into the touch, just like a puppy. When Jongdaë draws his hand back it’s like Baëkhyun arches forward with it, prolonging contact if only for a moment. 

“Baëkhyun likes it rough,” Jongdaë whispers, then pulls away completely. Jongdae looks over his shoulder in confusion as he watches Jongdaë dump himself on the arm chair opposite the desk, facing them, eyebrow raised. 

“Fuck him,” he demands, mismatched eyes blazing. “Show me what you really want, Jongdae.”

Jongdae shivers, but not in disgust. There’s so much desire inside him it’s terrifying, and the fact that Jongdaë knows that, _shares_ it, is even scarier.

He looks down at Baëkhyun, still rutting into his hand. “Is that okay with you, Baëkhyun?”

“God how many fucking times do I have to beg until one of you assholes make me come.” Baëkhyun’s fingers tighten in Jongdae’s jacket, his pace increasing. “Yes it’s fucking okay just fucking _touch_ me.”

There’s that spark again, and Jongdae leans into it, removing his hand and fisting it into Baëkhyun’s hair instead. He whines as his head tips back, throat arched. Jongdae’s touch isn’t rough by any means, and though it isn’t light either, Baëkhyun is just that pliant.

“I think you should earn it first,” Jongdae mutters darkly, enjoying the way Baëkhyun writhes. He leans in close to his ear, breathes hotly against his neck. “Turn around.”

Baëkhyun does as he’s told, and Jongdae admires the view, smoothing his hands down Baëkhyun’s sides and over his ass. His hips buck at the touch, so desperate for friction he’d even rut against the desk.

“So cute,” Jongdae praises, pressing a kiss to the back of Baëkhyun’s neck, who shivers at the touch. He’s younger and softer but he’s still broader and taller than Jongdae, if only just, yet seems so small bent over the desk like this. 

“He likes it when you talk to him,” Jongdaë adds, still leaning casually in the armchair. He’s hard and straining against his suit pants, at the very least. “Likes to know he’s doing good.”

Jongdae still prickles at being told what to do, but he likes the way Baëkhyun whimpers beneath him.

“Is that right, Baëkhyun?” Jongdae goads. “You want me to fuck you right here, right now, bent over this desk like a needy slut as I tell you how good you’re being, how perfect you feel?”

Baëkhyun actually sobs at that, a weak, needy noise.

“Please,” he chokes out.

“Then be a good boy and earn it,” Jongdae warns, reaching forward to unbuckle Baëkhyun’s pants and clumsily sliding them down mid-thigh until his ass is on full display. There’s a bottle of lube on top of the desk and Jongdae doesn’t want to know which of the fucked up clones put it there as he reaches for it, pouring it out onto his fingers and warming it up. “I want to see just how good you can be, okay? We don’t want to get caught, so keep quiet and then, if you’re good enough, I’ll fuck you.”

Baëkhyun lets out a shaky breath, then nods feverishly, eyes screwing shut as Jongdae presses one finger into him, slow and methodical.

“Does that feel good, Baëkhyun?” he asks. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” Baëkhyun breathes out, barely louder than a whisper. “So good. More-- please.”

Jongdae huffs at his neediness, but obliges, slipping in another finger alongside the first. He almost regrets asking Baëkhyun to keep quiet, although watching him desperately bite his own palm is it’s own kind of pleasure. He’s so responsive, and sensitive too, clenching around Jongdae’s fingers and arching back against them, trying to fuck himself on them as Jongdae pushes in deeper and deeper, building a rhythm.

Behind them, Jongdaë laughs. “You’re a natural,” he compliments.

“Shut up,” Jongdae spits back. He can’t count how many nights he’s spent alone in his bunk with one hand against his mouth and the other under his sheets, working himself over imagining what it would be like to pull Baekhyun apart, to be pulled apart by him. Then he’d fall asleep in a pool of his own shame. Here… that doesn’t exist; Jongdae is far away from the constraints of the present. Hell, there’s probably some younger, twinkier version of himself out there doing it right now.

Which is a boner kill, so Jongdae pushes that thought aside, watches Jongdaë over his shoulder still not touching himself, just exhaling slowly through his nose. 

“I thought you’d be a prudish little virgin,” Jongdaë admits, which makes Jongdae’s face twitch. “But I forgot--” he chuckles. “--you’re me.” 

“You’re _me_ ,” Jongdae corrects.

“Deja vu,” Jongdaë mumbles, and the sudden anger that bursts under Jongdae’s skin causes a spark.

“Ah!” Baëkhyun cries out, and Jongdae quickly retracts his fingers.

“Shit, fuck-- are you okay?” Humiliation burns him red, but his concern for Baëkhyun comes first. 

“Uh, fucking barely, that felt amazing. What the fuck?” Baëkhyun looks up with greedy eyes. “Do it again.” 

Jongdae is hesitant, but Baëkhyun seems confident, so he pushes two fingers back in and lets the smallest of charges build up. Not enough to hurt someone, just the slightest buzz, a tingle of static as a balloon lifts hair off your arm. Baëkhyun moans so loud and so sudden he seems embarrassed, hurriedly stuffing a hand into his mouth as he remembers he’s meant to be quiet.

Jongdae grins, and does it again, and again, and again, and again, watching the way Baëkhyun sweats and loses himself fucking back onto Jongdae’s hand, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes. Jongdae’s fucks his fingers in harder, delivers a harder charge, and Baëkhyun cries out suddenly, hands flying forward to balance himself as he’s pushed against the desk. 

“F-fuck,” he curses, still breathy in its forced quietness. Jongdae hums, reaching out to the long necktie thrown over Baëkhyun’s shoulder, holding it in front of his mouth.

“Stay quiet baby,” he reminds him, and Baëkhyun bites down on the offering, cries muffled as Jongdae sends another spark across his fingertips, the sharpest one yet. His moan is long and unabashed, though somewhat smothered. “That’s it. Good boy.”

Baëkhyun is loose and open now, though he whines at the loss as Jongdae pulls his hand back, glancing briefly back at Jongdaë. He still isn’t touching himself, just leaning back with both hands on the armrest, contemplative. It's so frustrating. Jongdae wants to see him lose.

“I told you, Baëkhyun likes it rough,” Jongdaë speaks up. “Hard and fast, likes to be used and moved around like a little doll, loves to be good.” His eyes darken. “Make him feel good, won’t you?” 

Jongdae scoffs. “Like I needed you to tell me that,” he mumbles. It’s actually a little daunting, the idea of being so rough with someone, but when Jongdae pushes his fingers through Baëkhyun’s hair he only moans, still biting onto the necktie. Jongdae tugs his head up by his hair so that his spine is arched. He quickly undoes his pants and nearly sighs in relief as his own cock is less strangled, rubbing the tip along the lube dripping down Baëkhyun’s thighs. Baëkhyun twitches at the touch, desperate for it, but he stays good and doesn’t move. 

“Do you want it, puppy?” Jongdae whispers. Baëkhyun nods feverishly. “Good boy.”

Jongdae pushes in achingly slow, partly to let Baëkhyun adjust, partly to test him. He looks delirious with want, eyes screwed shut and knuckles white on the edge of the table as he tries to stop himself from rutting back against Jongdae. 

The power is intoxicating, but once Jongdae is fully inside, tight and wet and _hot_ , he begins to lose a little control himself, hips moving on their own accord as he fucks into Baëkhyun, once, twice.

“Harder,” Jongdaë goads from behind them. Jongdae grits his teeth and obliges. “ _Harder_. Let go, Jongdae. He wants you to.”

Baëkhyun nods furiously at the mention, and Jongdae growls, frustration waving inside him but he uses the momentuum to fuck into Baëkhyun in front of him, hard enough that the desk starts to squeak, shifting along the floor. Jongdae doesn’t need to turn around to see Jongdaë grinning because he can _feel_ it.

“Fuck you feel so good,” Jongdae breathes out, fisting a hand in Baëkhyun’s hair again to give him more leverage. Baëkhyun arches his throat and whines, the tie tumbling out of his mouth but his hands too busy gripping onto the desk to fix it. His hair sticks up between Jongdae’s fingers, his clothes a wrinkled, stained mess, makeup smudged. He looks like a debauched mess, and Jongdae wants to _ruin_ him. He reaches out to grab the spit-soaked tie for leverage, like a leash. “So tight, puppy. Do the other clones not fuck you enough? Do they not know how perfect you are?” 

Baëkhyun sobs desperately, racking his whole frame. “N-no.”

“They’re missing out.” Jongdae breathes his words into Baëkhyun’s ear. “Imagine how good you’d be for all of them, huh? Bet you wouldn’t come until they’d all come inside you first, filled you up and made you whole.”

Baekhyun’s crying for real, now, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?” Jongdae goads. He snakes a hand to Baëkhyun’s front and swipes his fingers over the mess there. “Are you going to come just like this? Don’t even need me to touch you, huh? Just the thought of being used gets to you that bad. You really are a needy slut.”

Another sob, and Baëkhyun’s cock twitches in Jongdae’s limp hand. Jongdae fucks into him harder, and he cries out, nails digging into the wood of the desk.

“‘M so close,” he mumbles furiously. “Please--” 

“What do you think?” Jongdae asks, using his grip in Baëkhyun’s hair to pull his face up, then hold onto his jaw, leaving him up for consideration. “Has he earned it?”

Jongdaë exhales, slow and careful. “I think so,” he relents. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” Jongdae kisses some of the tears running along Baëkhyun’s cheeks. “I think he has.”

He focuses on fucking him harder, now, pushing Baëkhyun down onto the desk and using him as he pleases. Baëkhyun comes moments later, crying out and spilling onto the wood. Baëkhyun clenches around him and Jongdae’s a goner, filling Baëkhyun up with his come and feeling the way he tightens, begging for it.

Jongdae pulls back, but a pair of hands on his waist keep him in place.

“Don’t,” Jongdaë warns. “He likes to be filled.”

“Even like this?” Jongdae asks, skeptical, but when he glances down Baëkhyun just sighs happily in content, pushing back against him. 

“He’s a good boy, remember?” Apparently Jongdae didn’t understand _just_ how good. Jongdaë swipes his fingers through the mess Baëkhyun made on the table, and holds it up to his lips. “Show him, won’t you love?”

Baëkhyun’s mouth falls open obediently, and he sucks around Jongdaë’s fingers, moaning at the taste. Jongdae has to thank mutant powers for the way his cock twitches even now, watching the scene unfurl in front of him. Jongdaë somehow treats Baëkhyun so gently as he cups his cheek while feeding him his fingers, and Baëkhyun greedily laps it up. It’s jarring.

“I wonder,” Jongdaë starts, pulling Jongdae from his reverie, “if you could get hard again, inside him. I bet he’d like that too.” 

Baëkhyun moans a little, then laughs in disbelief.

“Jesus fucking christ,” he breathes out. “If this is what I have to look forward to in the future then I can’t fucking wait.” 

Jongdaë chuckles. “Baby test tube me might take a little warming up to get there, at first, but I promise you’ll get your fun.” He turns to Jongdae. “What do you say?”

“What? Was me fucking him the first time not good enough?” Even with his mock indignance, Jongdaë can feel the way his arousal boils and stirs, interested.

Jongdaë shrugs. “It was okay,” he says. “But I think I could show you better.”

Jongdae inhales shakily, feels Jongdaë’s fingers featherlight ghosting over his exposed hips. They’re still wet with Baëkhyun’s spit, cold because of it.

“Come on hero,” Jongdaë goads. “I know you want it, but I won’t let you have it unless you say so.”

Jongdae swallows.

“I--” he tries. “--I don’t.”

Jongdaë pulls away so abruptly it’s jarring, Jongdae exhaling at the lack of warmth as he steps back, searching Jongdae’s face.

“You don’t?” he seems genuinely shocked.

“I don’t want you to have the control,” Jongdae amends, and Jongdaë visibly relaxes, then laughs.

“Wow, you are so old-fashioned,” Jongdaë comments, still snickering. “You really think my dick inside you is going to make you a little bitch, huh? A good puppy, just like Baekhyun.”

Jongdae growls; it only makes Jongdaë’s eyes darken.

“No, I know you like control too much,” he says, voice low. “I just want to make you feel good. Both of you.”

Baëkhyun groans, and flops down onto the desk in exasperation. “Are you guys really having a dick-sizing competition with your dick still in my ass?” he asks. Despite having fucked him minutes prior, Jongdae flushes a little, embarrassed. “Ridiculous.”

“Shh Hyunnie,” Jongdaë coos, and Baëkhyun’s mouth snaps shut obediently. “This is an important growth moment.”

Jongdae squeezes his eyes shut, and sighs. As reluctant as he is to let Jongdaë call the shots anymore than he already has, part of him aches for it, mouth watering at the thought.

“Yes,” Jongdae breathes out finally. “Yes you can-- you can fuck me.”

Jongdaë’s pleased noise is oddly childish, something that makes Jongdae smile in amusement before he catches the expression and wipes it away. 

“God I’ve always wanted to know how our ass feels,” Jongdaë says, palms over Jongdae’s ass almost reverently. He picks up the lube bottle tipped over beside Baëkhyun, and pushes one finger in, fast and unhurried the way Jongdae likes. Knowing that Jongdaë knows exactly what he wants makes Jongdae moan, and he feels himself quickly grow hard inside of Baëkhyun, whose hips squirm on the desk with it. Jongdaë chuckles, deep and low. “So tight, hero. Baekhyun was right, you really don’t fuck each other.”

Jongdae grits his teeth, but one finger turns to two and he’s caught somewhere between frustration and pleasure, making an embarrassing noise as Jongdaë fucks his fingers in hard and fast, hitting Jongdae’s prostate with every curl of his fingers without even having to search for it. His knees are shaking a little, and every push of Jongdaë’s fingers only sends him further into Baëkhyun, tight and wet. Jongdae can’t handle it. 

“I bet he felt just like Baëkhyun does right now,” Jongdaë croons, breathing hot into the shell of Jongdae’s ear. He shudders. “Tight and hot, so good for us, so desperate to please. I took his mouth first, you know? He let me have it, so eager to be filled.” Jongdae grits his teeth. “I came on his face and made him clean it up.”

“Fuck,” Jongdae gasps, right as Jongdaë replaces his fingers with his cock, stretching Jongdae further and pushing into him, grinding his hip in a tight little circle that sends Jongdae forward into Baëkhyun, who only hums in happiness beneath them, pushing back, his hands feeling up his own body with undisguised sensuality.

“We took him at the same time, you know,” Jongdaë continues. “Both of us inside him at once. Do you reckon Baëkhyunnie could stretch like that too? I bet he’d like it. Or…” Jongdaë’s finger brushes Jongdae’s perineum, and he gasps as it pushes in alongside his cock. “Maybe you would?”

It’s all too much, and Jongdae feels himself on edge too early. Baëkhyun clenched around him and Jongdaë stretching him out, not even moving just… _filling_. It makes him panic, almost, determined not to give in so soon, so he uses one hand to push Jongdaë away while the other pushes Baëkhyun harder onto the desk, who moans at the rough handling, but it turns to a confused noise as Jongdae pulls out.

“A-ah-- no--” Baëkhyun uses his own fingers to swipe at the lube and come dripping down his thighs and pushes it back in, glancing over his shoulder at Jongdae in confusion as he turns to face his clone. Jongdaë just seems confused, but also intrigued, eyebrow cocked in a silent challenge.

“I am so sick of you,” Jongdae says, stepping forward. Jongdaë steps back. “Mouthy fucker. Telling me what to do as if you own me.” They walk so far forward the backs of Jongdaë’s knees collide with the armchair and he falls down onto it, eyes alight with excitement. “You keep telling me to give in, give up control.” Jongdae straddles him, thighs on either side, and Jongdaë’s hands fly up to his waist, steadying him as he places his hands beside his head on the back of the chair. “But I don’t think it’s _me_ you’re trying to convince, is it?”

Jongdaë’s eyelids flutter, and he moans. “Please.”

“Please what?” Jongdae wrenches a hand into his hair and makes his throat arch, leaning down to bite his adam’s apple, _hard_.

“Please,” Jongdaë repeats uselessly, gasping. 

“Hmph.” Jongdae reaches down to line Jongdaë’s cock up, sliding down onto it easily. Jongdaë sighs in pleasure, and though Jongdae’s thighs burn the stretch is good. They truly fit together seamlessly, lock and key, and Jongdae can attribute that to the fact that they’re made up of the same parts. “C’mon then. Weren’t you going to show me how it’s done? Make me feel good, Jongdaë.”

Jongdaë grunts, but his hips buck up into Jongdae, and the new angle has him gasping, pushing down to meet him. Jongdaë’s hands on his hips help Jongdae leverage himself as he bounces in his counterparts lap, riding him hard and fast.

“Stop,” Jongdae commands, and Jongdaë does, instantly. It makes Jongdae grin. He rocks his hips a little, back and forth, and Jongdaë’s fingers tighten on his hips hard enough to leave bruises, muffling his groan in the crook of Jongdae’s neck and shoulder.

“You better not come before I do,” Jongdae warns with mocking sweetness. “Don’t you want to be good, baby?”

“I-- I’ll be good,” Jongdaë promises, his face burning against Jongdae’s skin in humiliation. He feels so fucking powerful.

“Good boy,” Jongdae praises, tugging on Jongdaë’s lip chain harshly to bring his head back to the chair. Jongdae leans down to kiss him, all teeth and no tenderness, and when he pulls back Jongdaë’s lip is bleeding where Jongdae had bitten it. He pushes his hands up Jongdaë’s shirt to expose his stomach, running his fingers over the slightest hint of abs there. Jongdaë isn’t ripped, but they share a similar metabolism that gives them the faintest of definition. “Make me come, then. Make me feel good.”

Jongdaë groans, his stomach arching into Jongdae’s hands, but he eagerly fucks up into him, wrapping one hand his cock while the other fingers inside him to aid the stretch. Jongdae sighs in pleasure, truly understanding the appeal of fucking yourself when they know you so well, know what you like and how to get you there fastest, know how to make you feel whole. He doesn’t even have to do any of the work as Jongdaë bounces him with rough, punctured thrusts and jerks his hand rapidly, making Jongdae cry out as he comes all over Jongdaë’s bare stomach. Even once he’s come Jongdaë still hurriedly fucks into him, pace frantic and messy but helping Jongdae ride through the cresting waves of pleasure.

“So-- close--” Jongdaë pants, and Jongdae comes back to his senses and pulls off completely, making Jongdaë cry out in frustration as he thrusts up uselessly into nothing. 

“Be. Good,” Jongdae warns, and Jongdaë’s burning eyes meet his with fury, but his hips still and sink back down. Jongdae smirks, glad to have the upper hand, and he can see the way Jongdaë wars with himself to fight him, but his need to give in wins out. Jongdae pulls off, sinking between Jongdaë’s thighs, and his breath hitches as Jongdae licks a hot wet stripe over his stomach, cleaning up his own mess.

“Fuck,” Jongdaë curses, laughing in disbelief as Jongdae continues to trail more hot, wet kisses over his abdomen, gradually getting lower and lower. His hips shift, just a little, as Jongdae tugs his pants down further and bites the inside of his thigh, leaving a red mark that will surely turn to a bruise. His breath ghosts over Jongdaë’s cock, and he _sees_ it twitch.

“Oh god.” The sudden moan behind them has Jongdae turning, having almost forgotten Baëkhyun was there to begin with. He’s laid out on the desk now stomach up, back arching against the wood as he jerks himself off, other hand still fingering inside to keep himself full. His head leans up to watch, making eye contact with Jongdae.

“Poor Baëkhyun,” Jongdae says. “We left him all empty without making him come.” Jongdae cocks an eyebrow. “Have you come already, puppy?”

“No,” Baëkhyun gasps out his answer, and his hand slows down. “No not-- not yet. Wanna be good.”

Jongdae laughs, turning back to see Jongdaë gulp, hands white-knuckled on the armrest. Still trying to keep in control.

Jongdae stands, wrenching a hand in Jongdaë's shirt to pull him off the chair. He moves with it, stumbling to his feet and shooting Jongdae a glare. His cock is wet and hard and aching and his face is flushed, his hair disheveled, lip bleeding. He looks desperate, and it makes Jongdae feel so fucking good.

“Since you know him _so_ well,” Jongdae mocks. “Make Baëkhyun come. Then I’ll give you what you want.”

Jongdaë bites his lip, but nods, moving to kneel between Baëkhyun’s thighs, gently tugging at both hands so they pull away.

“No,” Baëkhyun complains, his hands desperately gripping Jongdaë’s hair. “Don’t let it out-- ah!”

Jongdaë leans forward to lick up the mess dripping out of Baëkhyun, and it has Baëkhyun writhing, sweaty and panting as his back arches. Jongdae smiles, and steps closer to see, catching the way Jongdaë’s tongue and fingers disappear inside of Baëkhyun.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Baëkhyun gasps, pulling Jongdaë’s face closer and grinding on it. “Oh holy _fuck_.”

“Does it feel good, puppy?” Jongdae asks. Baëkhyun nods feverishly.

“Never-- been touched like this--” a sob racks his frame. “F-fuck.”

Oh, that makes Jongdae shiver, the reminder that this is a younger, untouched Baëkhyun, even missing his face scar. He’s probably more inexperienced and desperate than the present Baëkhyun is, and Jongdae likes it. Likes that Baëkhyun is bright red and sweaty and so fucking needy to be touched, to have someone touch him in ways he doesn’t even know he likes yet. 

“Can he come untouched, like this?” Jongdae asks. Still drinking Baëkhyun like he’s water and Jongdaë’s wandered through the desert, Jongdaë nods, eyes fluttering shut. “Good.”

It only takes a little more of Jongdaë eating him out before Baëkhyun comes on his own stomach, body convulsing with the aftershocks of it. Jongdaë pulls away, and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, standing up between Baëkhyun’s thighs to kiss him and make him taste it. There’s even a little bit of Jongdae’s come on his chin.

Despite their usual roughness, the kiss the clones share is soft, once Baëkhyun is done licking around Jongdaë’s mouth. 

They pull apart, and Jongdaë says, “Good boy.” Baëkhyun visibly preens with the praise, exhausted and flushed. Something like jealousy sparks in Jongdae’s gut, and he falls down to his knees, catching Jongdaë’s attention as he turns around.

“You made him come,” Jongdae commends. “Now take what you want.”

Jongdaë’s eyes darken and turn red, and Jongdae opens his mouth easily as Jongdaë’s fingers slide into his hair, fisting him violently forward and pulling his mouth over Jongdaë’s cock. Jongdae just slips his eyes shut, savouring the feel of it pushing along his tongue and throat as Jongdaë moves his face as he wants it, fucks into his mouth. It feels good, to be pliant and used but still in control.

Baëkhyun pushes himself up off the desk with a little groan, all mussed and ruined from all that they’ve done. He makes eye contact with Jongdae, and smiles sleepily, all fucked out.

“How does your own mouth feel?” Baëkhyun asks. Jongdaë shudders.

“Good,” he admits. “Too fucking good.”

“You look so pretty like that on your knees, don’t you think? All ruined and wanting.” Jongdaë’s pace grows harsher, and Jongdae moans around his cock, hands flying up to his thighs for a little bit of grip to steady himself. “C’mon Jongdaë, how long have you dreamed about this? Having yourself finally where you want him.” Jongdae’s nails dig into his clone’s thighs. “Come already, fill him up the way you’ve always wanted to.”

That’s all it takes, and Jongdaë groans, fingers sharp against Jongdae’s scalp as he comes down his throat. Jongdae eagerly takes it, swallows it all, holds Jongdaë’s eyes as he does and keeps sucking.

It must grow to be too much, because Jongdaë pushes him off roughly, hard enough that Jongdae crumples to the ground, thumbing away the saliva dripping down his chin. The tension is thick and heavy.

Then Baëkhyun laughs.

“Wow,” he remarks. “I really-- _wow._ I don’t care how many times they remake me, I can’t wait for the future.”

Jongdaë huffs in amusement, fixing his clothing before moving to the desk and fondly stroking Baëkhyun’s hair. It’s so tender and loving when Jongdaë is anything but. It makes Jongdae sick.

“Well who knows if we’ll ever get to have fun again,” Jongdaë remarks. “The other Baekhyun ran off as soon as it was over, I assume this one is much the same.”

Jongdae grunts, pushing himself up. He feels disgusting, and he hates himself, and part of him presses into the feelings like a bruise, wanting to feel the sting. It feels _good_ , to give in the way he had, to let go. To not be the goody two-shoes hero, pure and untouchable. The storm inside him is quiet and subdued, and all Jongdae can think about is when he can do it again. He wishes he wanted to run off, but every inch of him just wants to stay, abandon the life he knows and… give in.

He feels dark and hungry and it’s strange. Is this the side of him that Jongdaë is built from? 

“We’re done here,” Jongdae says, monotone. “It must nearly be midnight. Let’s go find Jongīn and get out.” 

“Aw, so soon?” Baëkhyun pouts. It’s adorable, which Jongdae feels weird for thinking. Without arousal pulsing through his veins he just feels guilty for liking a version of Baëkhyun he shouldn’t, for letting himself have him before the original. Then again, Jongdae supposes, Baekhyun didn’t return that courtesy either. Guilt settles like lead in his stomach. Jongdae doubts it will ever disappear.

There’s the fizzle of static, and suddenly Jongīn is there like always, appearing in the blink of an eye. Jongdae jumps back, startled, but the clones look unsurprised. Baëkhyun is still disheveled and half-naked on top of the desk, completely uncaring.

Jongīn grimaces. “When I said distract him, this isn’t exactly what I meant.” Jongdae blinks, startled --he’s never heard Jongīn talk before. But when he takes in the smaller frame, suit, and floppy hair, he realises this isn’t exactly the Jongīn he’s familiar with.

“What? It was the funnest possible way,” Baëkhyun counters. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Jongīn looks at him in disgust. “You’re a freak.”

“Says you.” The exchange is so childish Jongdae can only look on in disbelief, head still spinning trying to catch up. 

“Distract me?” Jongdae questions, and when he looks at Jongdaë, the clone only grins. He feels something in his chest sink. 

“We didn’t exactly want someone with all the future’s secrets running around the past ruining our plans, now did we?” Jongdaë chuckles, and Jongdae feels himself _shatter_. “Good thing that never even crossed your mind once, did it?”

Jongdae falls to his knees in disbelief. Somewhere out there, a younger Baekhyun and Jongdae fight to survive, to be a beacon for their people, unaware that the very enemy they face is making their perfect counter weapon. Somewhere out there, a young Baekhyun and Jongdae train, completely unaware of just how many people they’ll lose in the years to come, of how they’ll hollow out and become nothing but vacant shells because they hadn’t had enough foresight or strength to stop what’s coming.

Jongdae shakes, because Jongdaë is right. It never even crossed his mind.

“Some hero you are,” Jongdaë jeers.

Jongdae lunges, lightning flying, but it’s Baëkhyun who stops him, solidified shadows wrapping around his wrists and ankles and tying him in place. Jongdae growls, anger filling him out, flooding all the empty spaces left behind when Jongdaë was taken from him. 

“Enough,” Baëkhyun warns, blue eyes turned red. More static, and then there’s another Jongīn in front of them, tipping his head in a silent question as he takes in the scene in front of him.

“Yes yes I know I don’t want to hear it from you either.” Jongdaë holds up a hand to silence the present Jongīn, as if he can even talk to begin with. He looks unimpressed. “Just get us back already. I take it you’ve had enough time to recharge?”

Jongīn nods, and Jongdae fights against the shadows binding him but it’s fruitless. He slumps in his constraints, exhaling shakily. He could’ve changed things, could’ve saved them, but he was too blinded by his anger and selfishness to realise, too drunk on his own darkness to think about anything else. 

“He has,” the younger Jongīn pipes up. Present Jongīn turns then, and they regard each other coolly. They’re so different to the Jongin Jongdae knows, it’s hard to imagine they could ever come from him. Present Jongīn’s expression is strange. “Don’t look at me like that, I can see the timelines just as you can. I know what’s to become of me. I don’t need pity, unless you believe you are inferior?” Present Jongīn shakes his head, slow. “That’s what I thought. I look forward to growing as strong as you. Just get them out of here before they affect anything.” The younger Jongīn eyes Baëkhyun warily. “Fucking him isn’t a life-changing event, but I imagine he’s going to be unbearable for eternity now.”

Present Jongīn gives him a look.

Young Jongīn sighs. “You’re right. He was already destined for that.”

Baëkhyun squawks indignantly.

Jongdae only watches the scene unfold with numbness, body jerking back to life when he feels Jongdaë’s fingers under his chin, hooking his face up. His anger sparks inside him and he glares.

“No hard feelings, baby,” Jongdaë croons. “I still had fun.”

Jongdae lurches forward, snapping his teeth, but Jongdaë is too fast.

“Let’s go,” he tells Jongīn, who nods in agreement, stepping towards them.

“Bye boys.” Baëkhyun holds up a hand and waves, eyelids low and hungry as they meet Jongdae’s gaze. “See you soon.”

Travelling with Jongīn is as strange as it had been the first time, although Jongdae is careful not to fight it, just lets himself be pulled between existence and not as Jongīn leads them through the rivers of time.

They come back only moments after they’d left, alarms still blaring and the room still smelling of smoke where Chanyeol’s fire had burnt through the door. Jongdae gasps as he comes back to, head dizzy and the world spinning around him.

“There you are.” It’s Baekhyun’s voice but it’s not Baekhyun, a grinning Baëkhyun entering the room through the blown up doors and walking past a stunned Chanyeol and Baekhyun without a care in the world. “Had fun, I hope?”

“You’d know, you were there,” Jongdaë flirts. Baëkhyun’s grin widens.

“I told you he’d give in one day,” he tells Jongdaë, smug. Across the room, Baekhyun and Chanyeol watch them warily, fire and light burning bright. Baëkhyun turns to face them. “Hi puppy, good to see you again.”

Baekhyun pales, Chanyeol visibly confused, and although anger sparks inside Jongdae he’s tired, pushing himself up and walking towards his teammates.

“Let’s get out of here,” he tells them. “Before the building collapses.”

“What… happened to you?” Chanyeol asks. “Why are you--”

“Don’t ask,” Jongdae grits out, withering. “Please.”

He’s still dizzy from time travel, and he accidentally stumbles over, caught in Baekhyun’s arms. He looks at him with an unreadable expression and Jongdae hates it. Hates that he knows it, hates that he put it there.

“If you two ever want to have fun properly you know where to find us!” Jongdaë calls as they walk away. Jongdae pauses in place, making eye contact with him across the room. Jongdaë’s grin is wide and knowing, because he can still feel that after everything Jongdae still has so much hunger

Jongdae holds up his hand as if reaching for him.

Then charges it with lightning and sends a bolt straight into Jongdaë’s chest.

Baëkhyun cries out, rushing towards him as he’s knocked against the wall, and Baekhyun actually makes a strangled laugh as he quickly leads Jongdae away, down the hall and back to the exit. It hadn’t been enough to kill him, never is, but it had been enough to make Jongdae smile, satisfied and smug. 

“What the hell are they talking about?” Chanyeol asks frantically. “Where did you go? Why did your clothes change? What the fuck is going on?”

“ _Leave it_ ,” Jongdae hisses, and Chanyeol’s mouth clamps shut, indignant. They get out of the building in one piece, Jongdae still held up by Baekhyun’s arms. The outside air feels cool and refreshing, helps Jongdae clear his head. He pushes himself off of Baekhyun as the guilt comes back, grunting.

“Your fly is down,” Baekhyun tells him softly, and Jongdae flushes as he pulls it back up. Baekhyun just gives him a small, understanding smile. It helps Jongdae relax. They look back at the building crumbling behind them, nothing but a distraction from their clones while the others cause mayhem elsewhere, no doubt. Jongdae eyes it warily.

“Do you think they got out?” Baekhyun asks.

“Unfortunately,” Jongdae admits, because he can feel it inside him. And he knows Baekhyun didn’t need to ask, because he can feel it too. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

The heavens open up, and rain begins to pour down, pelting them with droplets and soaking them to the bone. It feels good, in a way, feels cleansing. Jongdae releases all his worries to the rain, lets it wash them away.

Above them, lightning flashes. But the only thunder to rumble is the kind nestled deep inside Jongdae’s chest.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](http://twitter.com/astrobiemish)  
> my descent to hell gets faster every day


End file.
